Juvenile Nonsense for President

Subheadline:

FOREIGN POLICY

We’re well into March, which means I’ve finally stopped accidently putting “2010” on my checks. This led to the sudden realization that this is, in fact, 2011, which in turn led to several other less-sudden-but-still-pretty-brisk realizations:

1) Holy cats! We’re only four years away from the future as portrayed in “Back to the Future Part II.” That means I’m, at most, six months away from getting some self-tying shoes. Score!

2) Next year is an election year, and so far no one is running. At this rate, it could be years before we have a president.

3) I’m still writing checks? What is this, 1978? Am I writing this check to pay for some Billy Beer?

I’d like to address that second realization, since it’s the only one that wasn’t fueled by some sort of chemical imbalance in my brain.

The long process of electing a president, as you know, starts with several identical men in suits. Each of them must first attend the major network talk show of their choosing and announce their candidacy for president.

From there, they are whisked away to those states in the Union that really don’t have too much else going on, such as Iowa, and states that you have to look up on a map to double-check are actual states, such as New Hampshire (true story; until college I thought New Hampshire was a type of pudding).

If the candidates survive the elimination round, they then duke it out in a series of televised debates watched mostly by people looking to make fun of it on the internet the next day.

The top two candidates, as judged by the debate results, the BCS computers and the coaches poll, will move on to the election, where one (or sometimes both) will win the presidency. As a reward, they will catch three shades of hell for everything they do for the next four years.

Usually by this time of year, people are popping out of the woodwork for a chance to be cable news’ next whipping boy. But this year, nothing.

Sarah Palin, Donald Trump, Mitt Romney, Matt Damon, they’ve all said indisputably that they are in no way shape or form ready to even think about announcing their candidacy. At least until a spot opens up on Leno.

But the office of the president is not for the meek. This is the highest office in the land, and anyone who would claim it shouldn’t be too afraid to get their candidacy started early.

That is why I am announcing my candidacy for president right here today in the pages of Funday Monday. I’m sure there is probably some kind of form I need to fill out, but rest assured my first act as president will be to clear out all the red tape retroactive to my own announcement for candidacy.

But covering my own backside isn’t all I’ll do as president. Every president must have a platform (mine will require some reinforcement until I start jogging again, which I am totally going to), and here’s mine.

FOREIGN POLICY

Obviously, foreign policy is of extreme importance right now, since the entire world is basically like the cast of “General Hospital.” Libya has found out about Kaddafi’s secret lover and is trying to throw him out of the house, China has slowly turned into a loan shark and the U.S. is risking losing some thumbs, pretty much all of Europe has been on strike since April and meanwhile Australia is sleeping with Madagascar right under the nose of Nicaragua who just came out of a coma after Peru pushed it down some stairs, but still has amnesia.

My first order of businesses as president would be to immediately stop caring about what happens in the rest of the world because most of those people don’t speak English anyway. Moving on.

DOMESTIC POLICY

Domestic policy is another crucial issue, since America is where most of us keep our stuff.

I would probably just turn most of my domestic policy decisions over to my “domestic policy decision-making czar,” former pro wrestler Hulk Hogan. His qualifications as a domestic policy expert should be immediately obvious, as that dude really, really loves America. Seriously, his old ring entrance music was called “I am a real American.” The gist of the song was that any wrestler who was not Hulk Hogan might as well be Hitler.

That’s a man who’s going to say his prayers, eat his vitamins and shore up tariff restrictions.

SELF-TYING SHOE POLICY

Pro. Definitely. Pro.

So there you have the three corners of my platform: ignorance of world problems, Hulk Hogan and self-tying shoes. Some might say it’s a folly to start a campaign this early; that I’m too easily discouraged to carry out such a lengthy campaign, but come to think of it that’s very true, so I hereby withdraw my candidacy for President.

Your loss, America.

Note: Just after I wrote this, Newt Gingrich gave the American people a promise ring, saying he was launching a committee to think about maybe possibly announcing a presidential run. No word on his stance on self-tying shoes, but his voting history on hoverboards speaks for itself.